


Freakshow and Circuit Board

by szhismine



Series: Cherry and Nick [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst and Humor, Banter, Drama, Flashbacks, Friendship, Gen, Light Angst, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-06 04:56:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5403860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/szhismine/pseuds/szhismine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So how did Nick Valentine and John Hancock meet? Well, it all started with a power-hungry mayor in Diamond City...</p><p>Work in progress, will be updated slowly. My take on how the two met and became friends, a bit of an origin story. Also explores some of the things that happened in the Commonwealth. Set years before meeting the Sole Survivor. Flashbacks, banter, bros, good cop/bad cop. The usual excitement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We Meet Again

With a satisfying sigh, Hancock leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on the desk. It had been a long day, and a surprisingly sober one, barring the steady stream of Mentats he'd been chewing on since dawn. Several problems had arisen involving trading caravans and nearby Raider hot-spots, and it had taken hours to get the mess sorted. Now that it was over he could relax with his favourite chem mix and savour the warmth that came with doing something good for the people.

A meek-looking man poked his head into the doorway. “Sorry to disturb Mr. Mayor, but there's someone here to see you. Won't give his name though.” His voice dropped slightly. “It's a synth.”

Dread crawled up his spine, but he suppressed it as he got to his feet. “It's okay. Let him in.” Clasping his arms behind his back he stood at the window, listening as even footsteps entered into the room. He made no move to greet, or even look at the mystery guest. If a synth was here to see him specifically, it wasn't for a good reason. At the very least he could put on a show. No one would say John Hancock was anything other than a perfect drama queen.

The door closed.

“John McDonough?”

In a split second, his hand was on the grip of his weapon. In the next second, he had spun on his heel, coattails flaring out at the motion, shotgun now pointed straight at the intruder. It _was_ a synth staring back at him, eerie glowing eyes piercing through the low lighting, but not the kind of synth he was expecting. He was shabbily dressed in a thin trenchcoat and faded fedora, and Hancock could see a wrinkled shirt and ill-fitting pants underneath that. Why would the Institute dress one of their own so shabbily? There was only one answer: infiltration. But then that wouldn't explain the patchy skin job and exposed metal workings. Whatever had brought the synth to him, it wasn't anything official.

“Not a lot of people know that name anymore,” Hancock snarled. “What's a bucket of bolts like you tossing that name around for? Who sent you?”

A metallic claw reached into a coat pocket, slowly, and Hancock's finger twitched against the trigger. The ghoul watched as the stranger withdrew a cigarette pack. “May I?” His voice was gruff, tense but respectful, and somehow... familiar?

Hancock never lowered his weapon while the synth lit up. He shook his head when he was offered one, impatient for his question to be answered, but unwilling to move the conversation along.

“Now then.” The synth exhaled a thick cloud of smoke; _Does he even have lungs?_ Hancock thought, still wary but slightly disarmed by how human he was acting.

“Your brother sent me.”

Hancock's grip tightened, aim wavering just slightly as his hand shook. “Shit,” he hissed. He should have known it would be a matter of time. “How did he know where to find me? I-I made sure no one could recognize me.” His stomach dropped as he ran through every worse-case scenario. Would he have to leave Goodneighbor?

The metal man snorted, giving him a once-over look. “Yeah. Kinda went to extremes to do that, didn't you? I'm sure a wig and some makeup would've worked just as well.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Hancock growled, approaching the synth angrily. “You don't know anything about what you're talking about! You're just another one of my brother's goons. Now _answer my fucking question_.” The barrel of his gun was now squarely pressed against his target's chest.

The synth held up his hands in an attempt to placate the agitated ghoul. “Alright, alright, easy bud. I'm not here to kill you, or even to drag you back to Diamond City. Truth is, I accepted this job so I could warn you. Once I found out who you were, I figured we could help each other out again. For old time's sake.”

Eyes widening in sudden realization, Hancock finally lowered his shotgun. “Nick?” Once he had a name to put to the face, memories flooded back to him. Nick Valentine?”

*

Thoughts? Any interest in reading more? Feedback is appreciated as always :)


	2. Valentine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the people who commented/left kudos! I'm glad this got some response :) Hopefully as I update more will be interested! I'm kinda winging it, I wanna establish Nick and John a bit before stuff really starts going down :) Please let me know what you guys think!

“Lookin' sharp mister Nick!”

“Hey there Nicky. Love the hat!”

“Why hello handsome. Gonna be at the Dugout later?”

“Mister Valentine! Thanks again for your help!”

 “Kon'nichiwa, tomoyo!”

 Catcalls, whistles and cheers followed the synth throughout the market, adding an uncharacteristic swagger to his step and a smirk that just wouldn't dissipate. He tipped his hat to everyone, nodding in greeting or in thanks, even to those who still looked at him with a suspicious eye. Even ol' Myrna couldn't ruin this day for him. He should be at least a little embarrassed by all the attention, but then again, attention is what he was hoping for.

He rounded the corner and passed the schoolhouse, making his way to the alley that housed his new livelihood. A familiar figure was waiting for him on the boardwalk, and she waved him over when she spotted him. “So? Do they fit?” As he got closer she grinned and clapped her hands together. “Nicky, you look great! You're a real detective now!”

Chucking, Nick spread his arms, allowing Ellie a better look. Gone were his threadbare, torn pants and frayed shirt that was little more than a cloth bag from the pre-war days. His trousers were still too large, but they were whole, and held up by a belt, a real one. His dress shirt was wrinkled but clean, his tie adding a touch of respectability. The coat was shabby but added to his image, and the fedora drew attention away from his decrepit features.

Nick Valentine was a new man. In a manner of speaking.

“Couldn't have done it without you, Ell,” he said warmly as the woman hugged him. She had helped him get the office space (the owner was initially weary about renting to a synth), and her best friend had helped him with finding his new outfit.

“I hope you don't mind, but I got you something.” She cocked her head, drawing Nick's attention to the large sheet of canvas that was hanging on the building just behind her. She grabbed the corner and gave it a firm tug. Neon pink filled his vision, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. The word _Detective_ popped out at him, a stark contrast to the usual darkness looming over this section of the city.

“Heh, nice,” he commented. “It's a little flashy, isn't it?”

“You ain't seen nothing yet.” Ellie winked, taking his arm to escort him to his- _their_ \- new digs. The back-alley location helped with the mystique, but it was a bit hard to find, so he was glad Ellie had thought to put in some signage.

Right outside his office was another piece of canvas, a much larger one. This time he had the honour of unveiling the fluorescent pink lettering, and he squinted until he could read the sign properly.

“Well?” A hint of nervousness was in her voice as Ellie shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “What do you think?”

Nick studied the sign for a long moment. His name was displayed for the whole world to see. Valentine Detective Agency.  _His_ agency. This was his opportunity to bring something good to the world. He might be using pre-war Nick's know-how, but pre-war Nick wasn't the one bringing justice to the post-war Commonwealth. The heart with an arrow through it was a nice touch; he preferred to keep up a gruff, loner appearance, but he really was a romantic when it came right down to it. Not that he'd let on to anyone other than his closest friends... or friend, rather.

Hope, real hope, and excitement surged through his circuits. “The locals will find it an eyesore.” He glanced sideways at his companion. “I love it.”

 

*

 

With the few caps Nick had, and a large pile of owed favours on top of that, he and Ellie scrounged enough supplies to make a halfway decent office, complete with a cigarette dispenser (his smoking habit necessitated it), filing cabinets, and not one, but  _two_ desks. There was even a bed tucked away in the back, more for appearance than anything else. He had lots of extra boxes for case files, some of which were already full; he liked keeping meticulous records. Even the most trivial of facts could crack a case. Of course he had a pretty good memory, but it wasn't infinite, and having written notes to refer to made it easier for him to remember the small details. Now that Ellie was officially his secretary, he didn't have to worry about losing track of anything (his own organizational skills were somewhat lacking).

“Alright, everything's set up,” the woman announced with a grin. “Now all we need are some cases!”

Nick sat himself down, chair groaning as he propped his feet up on the desk. “Yeah. Travis owes me one, he'll get the word out on the radio. And some of my former clients know I'm going professional, though the odds of any of them needing me again-”

A frantic knocking on the door interrupted him. Ellie arched an eyebrow, waiting for Nick to stand up and make sure he was presentable. He adjusted his hat and made sure his tie was straight, fumbling just a bit due to a sudden nervousness that rose in him. He was about to have his first official case; everything needed to go well if he wanted his business to take off. He didn't own a mirror (vanity was not one of his usual traits), but Ellie gave him a thumbs-up, so he nodded at her to open the door.

Two men immediately barrelled in, arguing about who was first, while several other people were fighting to get a peek into the small space, waving at the synth and pleading for his attention. Behind them he could hear the clamouring voices of even more people. Nick gaped at the small crowd hopelessly until Ellie took charge, calling for everyone to form a line and be patient. Then she grabbed one of the angry men at random and tossed him out, closing the door firmly after calling out for patience once again.

Nick fell back heavily onto his chair. “Ellie... I hope your writing hand is ready,” he quipped, grabbing a cigarette and lighter from his desk.

_This is gonna be a long day._

 

*

Please please comment! :)

 


	3. McDonough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We know John Hancock... but who was John McDonough?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things...
> 
> 1) Mayor McDonough isn't given a first name in the game as far as I can tell, so I made one up (Tobias).
> 
> 2) the character "Wesley" in this chapter is 1000% inspired by Wesley in netflix's Daredevil, so just picture that guy.

“...Kid? HEY!”

“You find him?”

“Yeah, I found him. He's hopped up on Jet or some shit again.”

“Fuck.”

The voices drifted in an out of John's consciousness, and he sighed as his sweet buzz took on a sour note. Even drunk and high he could recognize those two idiots with no effort.

“Tweedle-dee and tweedle-shithead, y'all wanna pipe the fuck down? You're ruining my good time,” he drawled, arms waving haphazardly as he spoke. One of his hands slapped against something smooth... smooth and curvy, he realized as he began exploring the soft textures beneath his fingers. _What is that?_

A soft, feminine giggle solved that mystery. “Oh yeah...” his memories of the last few hours began emerging from his drug-induced state. “There are ladies present, aren't there.”

“Maybe if you opened your fucking eyes you'd have realized that sooner.” The first voice was low-pitched, and clearly irritated. Wesley, his brother's personal assistant and lackey.

“But if I open my eyes I'd have to look at your ugly faces.” He'd much rather grab a hit of psycho instead. _Do I have any left?_

He felt a large weight settle over him, and suddenly hands were grabbing his shirt, hauling him up. Now he did open his eyes, blinking until his vision cleared. Bruno, his brother's right-hand man and bodyguard, was glaring down at him. “Boss wants you. Get up.” A man of few words and many muscles; Tobias McDonough sure knew how to pick 'em.

Still only half-awake, and being of somewhat scrawny stature, John didn't have the strength to escape the goon's claw-like grip. _Looks like I gotta charm my way outta this._ “Hey man, why you gotta be like that? I know you know you're ugly. Your wife sure as hell knows it, or else she wouldn't be spending so much time with me-”

 _Maybe not the smartest thing to say,_ John realized once the pain subsided and he could hear himself think again. While one of his lady companions- _I wanna say Rose?_ \- got him a cold nuka-cola to place on the quickly swelling cut above his eye, Wesley was talking Bruno down. The giant had nearly taken his head clean off his shoulders with one punch, and it would only be his brother's influence that kept him from finishing the job.

“John,” Wesley scolded once the angry man was calm. “What has Tobias told you about upsetting the... hired help?”

“If they go freelance, you're on your own kid,” he recited. He'd gotten the lecture more than once.

“That's right.” Wesley sniffed disdainfully and tossed John a bundle of clothes. “Wash up and get changed, quickly. Your brother requires your presence.”

“I got my own clothes, ass,” John snarled, looking at the rather tame outfit he'd been given.

Wesley scoffed. “Yes, I can see that. Unfortunately for you, today's event requires a dress code, and leather did not make the list. Now hurry up please.”

John grit his teeth, holding back every foul word he wanted to spew at the insistent man. Instead he changed into the cleaner clothes, while promising the two women next to him the pleasure of his company at a later date.

 

*

John sighed as he left the Dugout and took the long way around to the city gates. He preferred this part of the city; it was where he grew up. Sure, he liked his new digs well enough, the view was good, but he felt so... disassociated from everyone, even himself, when he was up in the stands. Up there he was alone, in a world that usually frowned down upon him. His type of people were banned from anything above ground level; he was the exception because of his brother. It had alienated him from some of his closer friends, who regarded him as just another privileged asshole, even when there were enough chems in his veins to kill a deathclaw. His brother had tried to weed that behaviour out of him, telling John to have a sense of pride in their accomplisments, to no avail.

He should be proud, after all, right? Toby had built his life up from nothing, until he was a respectable member of the community. He made sure there was a place in that community for John, even when he'd rejected it outright. Toby still took care of him, despite the potential for public embarrassment. Wasn't that worth something? Sometimes John regretted his stubbornness... but then he tried to picture himself in an ill-fitting suit, sitting around with a bunch of pompous dicks smoking cigars while everyone under them worked their asses off for a meagre living. He thought of the orphans running around in the street, begging or picking up scrap and garbage just to afford food. He thought of the junkies like himself, who weren't all bad people; they had dreams of another life but real means of getting there, so they made do with a temporary fix. And he thought of the small ghoul community and the extra difficulties they faced; Diamond City was not as welcoming to everyone as it seemed on the surface.

All John could see of the city was the filth, and his shrewd older brother clawing his way out of it while shoving everyone else back down.

 

*

“Johnny! Hey Johnny!”

Tobias was waving enthusiastically from on top of the platform, and when John was in reach he pulled him forward and began patting the dust from his clothes. “Looking a little shabby, but that's okay,” the elder sibling muttered to himself. “Helps emphasize the 'rags to riches' angle. That bruise isn't working though. Wesley! Find Johnny a hat!”

“Toby, what the hell are you-”

Wesley crammed a fedora onto John's head, angling it to cover his face injury. The hat clashed horribly with the flannel shirt and faded jeans he was wearing, but at least it hid the fact that he'd gotten his ass handed to him.

“Excellent! We're ready now.” The slightly portly man clapped his brother on the shoulder. “I'm very happy you're here John,” he confessed quietly. “I'm a bit nervous. Just stand there and look handsome and everything will go fine.” Then he turned and marched to the podium on the edge of the platform.

John watched as a small crowd formed below them.“Why do I got a bad feeling about this...” He shuffled his feet as Wesley introduced Toby to the crowd, surprised at the loudly positive reaction he received.

“Thank you, thank you everyone.” Tobias held up his palm and the crowd quieted. “You all know me,” he began, proudly puffing out his chest. “I was born and raised here, as was my brother. Our parents sacrificed everything for us, both of them working hard every day of their lives to provide for Johnny and myself. But they didn't do it alone. This city helped raise us, gave us a community of amazing people we could rely on. And when I tried to make something of myself and improve my lot in life, this city enabled me to do that. I owe this great city a debt, and I plan on paying up. I am officially announcing my candidacy for mayor of Diamond City!”

John's shoulders slumped as applause broke out. He shouldn't have been surprised, but part of him had hoped the rumours weren't true. If Toby was running for office, that only meant he'd be keeping a closer eye on his druggie younger brother.

They used to have fun together. Maybe not the kind of fun John had on a daily basis, but they actually enjoyed each others company in the past. It had only been these last few months that Toby's priorities shifted until his only focus was his job. John wished he could blame Wesley, that no-good weasel of a man, but he couldn't.

Sometimes, John wondered if his brother was even the same man he'd known his whole life.

*

Please give feedback!!

 

**Author's Note:**

> Note: After checking the Fallout wiki, I'm going with the assumption that Hancock's real first name was actually John:
> 
> "Mayor McDonough referred to John Hancock as "John" before Hancock relocated to Goodneighbor. However, Hancock actually took "John Hancock" as his name after the drifter incident in Goodneighbor. This is either an oversight or Hancock's original first name was also John. If it's the latter, then John Hancock's original name would likely be John McDonough."


End file.
